


Birthday Blues

by VivArney



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Caine has the worst birthday of his life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Blues

Peter Caine groaned and came half-awake at the high-pitched squeal of his alarm clock. He reached over groggily and slapped the snooze button not quite ready to leave the comfortable cocoon of his bed or the pleasant dream he'd been having.

A few minutes later, however, a burst of blaring opera music erupted from a second alarm clock across the room.

He came fully awake now, sitting up in bed with a startled gasp. He sat for a moment, trying to catch his breath. It took him a minute to remember just why he'd set the second alarm the night before. He ran a hand down his face and groaned as he remembered he had to testify in court this morning, but his face brightened as he also recalled he was supposed to meet his foster mother at "Barry's" for lunch.

Peter stood, turned off both alarm clocks and walked into the bathroom. He started the water in the shower to get it nice and hot, then turned to frown at his reflection in the mirror. A person's thirtieth birthday was supposed to be some sort of milestone, but he didn't look any older than he had yesterday - he certainly didn't feel any older.

He shrugged and stepped into the shower stall and screamed! The water was ice cold! He leapt out of the stall, his wet feet slipped on the tile and he landed with a heavy thud on his bare butt.

Swearing and wincing, he slowly got to his feet and reached into the shower stall to turn the still icy water off. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off then went back to his bedroom.

He managed to get into a clean t-shirt and underwear without incident, but when he reached for his dress shirt, he noticed a large stain on the front. How had the cleaners missed that? Shrugging, he pulled out a pale blue one only to find it was missing a button. Frowning, he pulled a yellow shirt from the closet. He was able to get into his slacks and tie without a problem, but it took him several minutes to locate his suit coat. His dress shoes had gotten kicked under the bed and he had to use a broom to fish them out.

He glared at the clock as he returned the broom to the kitchen. He had wanted to grab some sort of breakfast - he hated testifying on an empty stomach - but a glass of milk sounded pretty good right now. 

Peter reached into the refrigerator for the carton and took as swig straight from the carton. He gagged as the sour milk hit the back of his throat. He ran to the sink and spat the milk into it. He washed out his mouth and swore. He dumped the rest of the milk, hurled the carton into the trash and slammed the refrigerator door. He'd just have to grab something from a fast food place on the way.

He quickly located his badge, wallet, keys and change and holstered his gun. He took a deep breath and left the apartment.

When he got down to the parking garage, he found a red tag tucked under his windshield wiper blade, telling him he'd parked in the wrong space. He glanced at the number spray-painted on the wall. Okay, so he was two spaces off, but there was a purple Yugo in his assigned space. 

He grinned mischievously and stuck the red tag under the Yugo's wiper with the other one the building security had already placed there. 

That done, he returned to his car, unlocked it and got in. He inserted the key and turned it. Nothing happened. It took four attempts before the engine finally roared to life.

Sighing with relief, Peter pulled out of the space and the garage and straight into the worst traffic jam he'd seen in years.

It took over an hour for him to get to the courthouse - a drive which normally took less that twenty minutes. Things just weren't going his way today.

Fortunately, one of the earlier witnesses took far longer than expected so his late arrival wasn't noticed, but the female Defense Attorney - nicknamed "Nit-picking Nancy" by the certain members of the "system" - did her best to shred Peter's testimony and it was all he could do to keep his temper and keep her from making him look like some rookie.

After he'd finished at the courthouse, he drove to the precinct. He had enough time to clear some paperwork before he needed to leave to join Anne Blaisdell for lunch.

He started to step into Kermit Griffin's office, but the door was closed and a sign was taped to the inside of the window changed his mind. The words were written in heavy, black magic marker read "Enter and Die!" and he decided he'd already had enough trouble this morning without incurring the ex-mercenary's wrath.

He dropped into his chair and picked up a folder.

The door opened behind him and he turned to see Captain Karen Simms glaring at him. "Detective Caine, my office," she said, holding the door open for him.

Peter stood. What had he done wrong this time? He sighed and walked into the office.

She closed the door behind him and sat down at her desk. "Have a seat."

Peter did as he was told, sitting nervously on the edge of the uncomfortable chair.

"Do you know why I called you in here?"

"Uh, not really... I can't think of..."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a pile of paper. She dropped it onto the desk in front of him.

Peter recognized the forms immediately. "Expense vouchers."

"Expense vouchers," she repeated. "Incomplete expense vouchers. To be exact gasoline consumption vouchers. You're not leaving your desk until these are properly completed and returned to me."

"But..."

"No buts, Detective," she snapped. "The sooner you get busy, the sooner you'll be finished."

Peter nodded and picked up the forms. "Can I at least take off for lunch? I never did get breakfast this morning?"

She sighed. "Very well. I can't have my officers collapsing from starvation, can I?"

He stood and grinned. "Thank you." He started to leave. "Anything else, Captain?"

"Yes, there is. I heard you went up against "Nit-picking Nancy" this morning. Good job."

"Thanks."

"I still want those on by desk by five, Detective Caine."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Shoo!"

Peter quickly left the small office and returned to his desk. A small piece of paper had been taped to his phone. Blake's overly neat block letters were easy to read. "Peter, call your mother about lunch."

He frowned. The way things had been going, he half-expected his foster mother to cancel on him. He picked up the phone and dialed, remembering all of the other birthday lunches. Paul and Anne had always taken the birthday boy or girl out to a fancy restaurant for lunch. It was a way to get their parents' undivided attention in what was usually a very busy household. It had been at one of these special lunches that Peter had announced to his foster parents his intention to go to the police academy.

The sound of Anne Blaisdell's voice took his mind off his memories.

"Hi, Mom."

"Happy Birthday, dear."

He grinned. At least somebody remembered. "Thanks. I got your message. What's up? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, honey. I was just making sure we were still on for lunch."

"Yeah, I've got some paperwork, but I'll be there."

"How'd it go in court?"

Peter shook his head. "It's a long story, Mom. I'll tell you about it over lunch."

"Okay. I'll meet you at the restaurant."

"I can pick you up, Mom."

"All right, I'll be ready at eleven-thirty."

"I'll see you then."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Peter looked down at the paperwork on his desk and sighed. 

After a while, he looked up and grinned. It was nearly eleven. He slipped the expense vouchers into an envelope and dropped it into a drawer. He poked his head into Captain Simms office to let her know he was leaving and shot out the door.

Annie Blaisdell was waiting for him on the porch when he arrived. 

He got out of the car and ran up to her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked worriedly.

"Just enjoying the sunshine," she answered as she stood. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved and I've got the prettiest date in town."

"Flattery will get you anywhere," she laughed.

He helped her into the passenger seat and returned to his seat.

"You said you had a long morning?" she asked as he started the car.

He half-chuckled and told her what had happened. "Guess somebody put a hex on me today," he joked.

"Well, maybe your afternoon will be better," she offered.

He shrugged. "Couldn't get too much worse."

They arrived at the restaurant and he escorted her into the dining room. They stood and chatted briefly with Barry de la Vega, the owner of the restaurant and an old friend. Barry congratulated Peter on his birthday and led them to a table off to the side where they could have some privacy. The waiter brought large glasses of iced tea and water and handed Peter a menu before he left to see to another set of customers. When he returned a few moment later, Peter, after consulting with his mother, ordered for them. They talked quietly as they waited for their lunch to arrive.

"How is your father?"

"I don't know. He and the Ancient went off last night to help somebody in Whittaker. He and I had a sort of birthday party yesterday afternoon. Would you believe he gave me a flute? I can handle a piano or a guitar okay, but a flute?"

"I love flute music. It's very soothing," she said. "Maybe it's a Shaolin thing."

He chuckled. "I guess so."

"You ARE coming for dinner tonight?"

"Of course. I've got some paperwork to finish, but I should be done in plenty of time." He took a sip of water. "Unless some nutcase starts something." 

Something near the front of the restaurant, later he was never sure just what, attracted his attention. He turned to see a large, pickup hurtling toward the glass front of the restaurant. "DOWN!" he yelled, shoving Annie under the table.

The sound of glass breaking, tires screeching and the screams of the restaurant's patrons were all that could be heard for a moment. The truck stopped and a burly man in camouflage jumped out. Peter's eyes widened as the man brandished a machine gun.

"Stay down!" Peter yelled, not sure whether any but his foster mother could hear him over the screams. He crouched and pulled his gun and carefully took aim as the other man started shooting.

[ [ [ [ [

Annie heard Peter's gun go off and tried to stay calm. It wasn't easy. She gasped as she felt something heavy land on her. She knew immediately that it was Peter. 

The room was suddenly silent around her. 

"Peter?" she called in fear. "Help! Somebody help!" She could hear other cries of pain and terror around the room. 

She pulled herself out from under her foster son's limp body and carefully ran her hands over him. She heard his strangled gasp as she felt a patch of warm, sticky wetness on his side.

"Peter?"

"I'm okay, Mom," he groaned. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Peter, lie still - you're bleeding!"

"Did I get him?"

"I don't know, I think so. He's stopped shooting." She felt around and found one of the linen napkins from the table and pressed it against the wound, trying not to cringe as he groaned again.

"Hell of a way to spend a birthday," he muttered.

"Sssh!" she said, trying to stay calm. She wished Paul were here.

"You two okay?" a male voice called from nearby.

"I'm fine, Barry," Annie answered. "My son's been...."

"He's the one that got the bastard!" the voice noted. "We've called the police and ambulances. How bad is it, Peter?"

"'m okay," Peter mumbled.

"Hang in there, son, help's on the way," the man urged and went off to check on his other customers.

Annie lifted her head and sighed in relief as her keen ears picked up the sound of sirens coming nearer. "It won't be much longer, Peter," she said quietly. There was no answer. 

"Peter?" She put her hand on his chest, relieved to feel the gentle rise and fall of his slow, measured breathing. She could hear shouting and people moving around. 

[ [ [ [ [

It was all Kermit Griffin could do to remain calm as he approached to find Annie Blaisdell sitting on the floor beside the overturned table with her foster son's head cradled in her lap, her hand pressing a linen napkin over a large, bloodstained area above Peter's right hip. Peter's face was pale and covered in sweat.

He pulled the table out of the way. "Annie, it's Kermit. Are you hurt?" 

The blonde woman's face turned up to him and he could see the tears streaming down her cheeks from beneath the dark glasses. "N-no. B-but Peter's...."

"I know." 

The ex-mercenary knelt and put an arm around Annie's shoulders, not surprised to find her thin body shaking with fear. "Everything's gonna be okay, Annie. Here, let me help you up into a chair." 

"I don't want to leave Peter," she told him.

"The paramedics are checking everybody, they'll be here in a minute. I don't want to try to move him before they check him. Are you sure you're not hurt?" 

"Yes, I'm fine, Kermit, but... Peter..."

Kermit looked down at his friend. He could see where Annie had tried to stanch the bleeding with a napkin. "You did a good job, Annie," he said. He lifted the edge of the napkin and peered at the wound. "It doesn't look too bad, but we'll let the paramedics take a look at it."

Mary Margaret Skalany came over. "Kermit?"

"I think they're okay. How many casualties?"

She took a deep breath. "So far, four customers, two employees and the gunman all dead. Ten customers in critical condition, twelve with minor injuries. That's not counting Peter."

"Damn! What the hell was that bastard doing?" Kermit sighed.

Mary Margaret shrugged.

The paramedics appeared, checked Peter over and he was loaded into one of the ambulances.

Kermit helped Annie to her feet. "Annie, I think you should go to the hospital, too."

"I'm fine, Kermit," she insisted again. "I'm more worried about Peter."

"He's in good hands, Annie," he promised her. "You're in shock. Here, sit down. Mary Margaret, would you stay with her for a minute? I need to talk to the Chief."

"Stop treating me like a..."

"Annie, he's just trying to help," Mary Margaret reminded her. 

"I know. I'm sorry."

Mary Margaret put an arm around the older woman's shoulders.

Kermit returned and quietly led Annie to one of the cars. "I'll send Chin for Caine," he told her as he helped her into the passenger seat. "He'll bring him to the hospital," he promised.

"Caine's out of town," she told him. 

"I'm sure he'll be back when he senses what's happened to Peter."

"I wish I could come with you, but we've got to figure this mess out."

"I know. I understand. I'll be fine, Kermit."

Kermit watched the car drive away and sighed. "Damn it, Caine, why weren't you here?" he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and returned to the carnage inside the restaurant.

[ [ [ [ [

At the hospital, an orderly pulled the Peter's gurney into one of the E.R. stations and handed the chart to the doctor who checked it and immediately called for Dr. Sabourin.

"Annie," Dr. Sabourin said as she entered the waiting room. Kermit had joined her only a few moments earlier and was offering what reassurance he could.

Peter's foster mother started to stand, but Dr. Sabourin came to sit down beside her. "I just wanted to let you know that Peter will be fine. The bullet left a very deep gash and he'll be sore for a week or two, but he'll be fine."

Annie sighed in relief. "What about the others?"

"I'm afraid there were several deaths. The man who did the shooting..."

"Scott Romo," Kermit said quietly. "He was a waiter at the restaurant until a week or so ago. The owner caught him with a gun in his locker and fired him on the spot. It was against company policy to bring weapons in."

"Things would have been a lot worse, if Peter hadn't been there to stop him."

"May we see him?"

"Certainly."

Kermit took Annie's arm and led her behind the doctor. 

"Hey, Mom," Peter called groggily as they entered the room. "Kermit, come join the party."

"Party?"

"Figure of speech," Peter said.

"We're just waiting for the pain medication to take effect," Dr. Sabourin said. "I'll probably release him in a couple of days, depending on his condition."

"Hell of a thing to get shot on your birthday," Kermit said, grinning.

"This kind of thing's been happening to me all damn day," Peter complained. "Did Mom tell you I fell on my ass in the shower this morning? If I didn't know better, I'd swear there was a crazy person sitting off somewhere with nothing better to do with their life than dream all this shit up just to ruin my day!"

Kermit grinned. "That stuff's making you a little paranoid, Peter," he teased. 

"I'm not paranoid, I'm pissed off!"

"Go to sleep, Peter," Annie told him quietly.

[ [ [ [ [

Peter woke slowly, gradually becoming aware of his body and surroundings. Except for the ache in his side, he felt surprisingly good. 

Even without opening his eyes, he could see as well as feel his father's chi glowing brightly at the side of the bed, but the hand holding his was definitely feminine. He knew immediately it was Annie.

He opened his eyes. Annie and his father were exactly where he expected them to be. Mary Margaret and Kermit were there as well.

"Guess I missed the party, huh?" he mumbled, squeezing his mother's hand.

"Not really, honey. Look around."

He smiled as he let his eyes take in the room to find it decorated with balloons, streamers and cards taped to the wall. "Looks nice," he said. He squeezed Annie's hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, honey."

"All that confusion... I know it had to be terrifying."

"I was more worried about you."

He looked over at his father. "Sorry you had to cut your trip short."

"Lo Si and I returned this afternoon," Caine said softly. "I knew you had been hurt, but we..."

"It's okay, Pop."

"I went to the precinct, but there was much confusion. Kermit brought me here only an hour ago."

"Well, I'm glad you're here." His hazel eyes bored deep into his father's slightly darker ones.

"Happy Birthday, my son."

"Thanks, Pop."

"The cake's still at the house," Annie said. "I had planned a party for you, but after all this..."

"We'll still have that party, Mom," Peter promised. "It'll just have to be a day or so later, that's all." 

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, you're a hero, Peter," Mary Margaret said.

"Huh?"

"You took out the shooter, don't you remember?" Kermit asked.

"Not really. I remember shooting at him, but after I got hit, I wasn't sure whether I'd gotten him or not."

"Got him right between the eyes," Mary Margaret said. "Barry says your money's no good there anymore."

"How many?"

"What?" Kermit asked.

"How many people did he kill?"

"Oh."

"How many, Kermit?"

The ex-mercenary took a deep breath. "Four customers and two employees," he told the younger man reluctantly. "Ten customers in critical condition, thirteen, including you, with serious to minor injuries.

"Oh, God!" Peter whispered. "I... Why couldn't I have gotten him sooner?"

"He had a modified A-K 47 and he was firing wide open, Peter. There was nothing more you could have done!"

"Well, at least he won't hurt anybody else," Annie said, squeezing Peter's hand again.

"Oh, yeah," Kermit said.

"Oh, Captain Simms said to give this to you," Mary Margaret said, handing him a large manilla envelope.

Peter opened it and groaned.

"Peter?" Annie asked worriedly.

"I'm okay, Mom."

"What is it, honey?"

"Just the expense vouchers I was working on before lunch. There's a note from Captain Simms."

Kermit picked it up and laughed. "It says: 'Nice job, Detective Caine. You should have plenty of time to finish these while you're recuperating."

"I told you there was some crazy person out there trying to ruin my birthday!"


End file.
